Hidden
by Viatrix
Summary: Aleksandra is your notsoaverage 18 year old bartender working in the upscale night club 'The Flare'. She works for the Black Wing organization, the secret police of the Russian government. And she has just been given her most dangerous mission yet.
1. Prologue: The Flare

Hi. This is Viatrix. This is a new idea that I'm playing around with, so...yeah. Enjoy! 

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**Prologue**

_The Flare_

The_ Flare_ was an upscale night club located in the heart of Moscow. The multi-storey building was painted a dull red, the name proudly displayed in neon orange lights and it attracted people of all ages, both tourists and locals alike. It had everything.

Guests arrived at the door, discarding their coats at the coat check in the reception area. People who wished to change shoes could do so, leaving winter boots and wet sneakers in small cubbies that were constantly watched by receptionists.

The first floor was strictly for dancing, the wooden floors lovingly waxed to a shine. The low stage in the centre of the floor hosted DJs, karaoke singers on Thursdays and the occasional dancer. Small café tables were scattered along the edge, providing a recovery spot for tired dancers.

The second floor was the bar and lounge, creating a relaxed atmosphere with its sound proof walls. Every type of drink was offered and several kinds of small pastries and snacks were available after six in the evening. Padded booths offered a quiet retreat for couples, groups of friends, and even businessmen.

The third and fourth floors were like hotel rooms. Guests could check in their intoxicated friends for the night at a reasonable fee. The rooms were tastefully decorated in subtle colours and plush furniture, while some of the pricier rooms had finer décor.

Staff at the _Flare _handled their job well. Bouncers at the door patted each guest down for weapons before granting entry. Waitresses served dutifully, efficient with their care of customers. The bartender watched drinkers carefully, noting intoxication and suspicious behaviour to suggest drug abuse. Maids cleaned the building daily, humming and giggling through chores.

The _Flare_ was one of the best maintained night clubs in all of Moscow.

A cover for one of the largest, government aided hidden organizations. It was called Black Wing. Its purpose was to watch for social disruption or suppressions, find the source, and turn it in to the Russian government. If the source could not be captured, it was destroyed.

Its existence was not known to the public, and the name Black Wing was never connected to the popular night spot in downtown Moscow.


	2. Agent

Hi again. I'm back. A shout out to **TsukiharaKitty **and **anonymous elephant**. Thank you so much!

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**Mission 1**

_Agent_

Aleksandra Bogdan sighed, rising from her hunched position over the bar counter. It was early afternoon in wintry Russia, pale sunlight drifting gently into the club from the arched windows. Aleksandra herself was a striking woman of eighteen, long copper tresses pulled back in a hasty ponytail, away from her glowing blue eyes as she worked. Standing at 5'8'', with faintly tanned skin and an athletic body, she was the ideal bartender to subdue the binge drinkers during work hours with her subtle charms and kind words. Being a fairly good fighter was an added bonus when things got out of hand. Dressed in faded jeans and a black t-shirt, she was hard at work cleaning the vodka spills left over from the night before. Heavy footsteps resounded in the room, echoing from the first floor stairs. One of her friends and co-workers, Gavriil Lyov, appeared on the threshold.

He was smiling cheerfully at his friend, almost a child compared to his 33 years of age. Gavriil was tall and broad shouldered, thick chords of muscle displaying his brute strength. The harsh visage was contrasted by his sparkling green eyes and soft black hair. Casually dressed in jeans and muscle shirt, he swaggered over to the bar and sat down. In addition to being a bouncer at the _Flare_, he was the Black Wing's demolitions expert.

"Hey Gav. What's up?"

"Nothing new. It was the usual party last night. Only a few new ones turned up. Although I can hazard a guess that they'll come back soon." The regular crowd turned up at least once a week, so the employees of the _Flare_ had begun to learn their names. It was an interesting business because every one of them had their quirks.

But behind the cheerful small talk and smiles, Aleksandra could sense that something was going on that upset her friend. She wasn't a bartender for nothing.

"Something's wrong, Gavriil, don't try to hide it from me." He shook his head with an amused sigh.

"You are getting too good at that. Mikhail wants to see you in his office. He mentioned something about a mission." Aleks smiled kindly at him. Since she joined the Black Wing and began work at the club, Gavriil had instantly taken a liking to her and acted like her big brother.

Wiping her hands on a rag and murmuring a thank you, she hurried down the stairs, through the 'Employees Only' door by the reception area. The stairwell was well lit, and the pale yellow walls and carpeted floor was a cheery sight. The oak banister followed the wall in spirals to the floor below. Jumping over it was faster, but it irked the club Manager and Missions Co-ordinator, Mikhail Miloslav.

His office was at the end of a long, bright corridor lined with other locked doors. If anyone managed to sneak downstairs, any efforts to open one would be delayed long enough for someone to get downstairs and throw them out. The contents of the rooms ranged from laboratories where various tests were carried out and storage areas for a wide range of firearms, hardware and electronics.

Aleksandra reached the door quickly, rapping it several times, the sound echoing in the empty hallway. A muffled acknowledgment floated through the wood. The female agent entered quickly, greeting her superior respectfully. Mikhail was an intimidating middle aged man, his face set in a hard frown, and harsh, red eyes. His expression softened to one of kindness upon her entry, motioning for her to sit down. Another co-worker was also there, a boy of her age named Pavel Nestor. He worked as a coat boy in reception. She returned his welcoming grin, framed by messy blond hair and deep green eyes. Something about his calm and laid back attitude instantly made her like him. Sitting down, the pair waited for their boss to speak. After a pause and shuffling of papers from which a manila folder was extracted, Mr. Miloslav looked at them sternly through his reading glasses.

"I have a mission for both of you, Ms. Bogdan and Mr. Nestor, one of great importance. We have received reports of suspicious and unlawful behaviour at the St. Peter Abby, 1272 Park Street in up town Moscow. The reports describe child exploitation and inhumane practices including torture and human experiments." Aleks felt her heart drop and her conscious kick in. _How can someone do that?_

"We sent a man in for reconnaissance some months ago, and the result was this report. He has been asked not to leave his post, but he wishes the issue to be resolved quickly. He has been forced to do some…regrettable deeds in order to provide us with this information" Both agents cringed at his sombre expression.

"I am sending the two of you in undercover as recruits, misnamed orphans, to collect evidence and observe inhumane acts that will hold a court session against the Abby's leaders." Silence reigned for long minutes, the atmosphere grim. Finally, Pavel spoke.

"I for one don't want this kind of thing happening in my city. And I have a little brother the same age as those kids. I'm in." Strengthened by his resolve, Aleks nodded her head as well. She was an only child, so she thought of her childhood friends instead. Mikhail smiled.

"Good. You have the best observation skills in the organization Aleks. Paval, you are the best rational thinker. Both of you have shown the ability to hold your own in a fight and you both know when it's best to stay silent. The pair of you together have the potential to take down the organization within that Abby. And I would never send in a lone agent on a mission this dangerous. Now then. These are your main targets and hazards." A white screen descended behind the desk and the room darkened. Aleks moved forward in her seat, face set. Moving his chair so that they could see properly, Mr. Miloslav clicked the remote and the picture of a middle age man filled the screen. He was decked out in military colours and uniform style, a tribute to the methods he used.

"This is Boris Balkov, the resident leader. He is closely guarded by his top 'trainees', so getting close to him will be difficult as low ranking additions. He trains the young boys in dangerous beyblading techniques and strategies, as well as various military-based skills, including the handling of firearms. Be careful. He is ruthless and cold blooded, and he will not hesitate to punish anyone who disrespects him or who is not fulfilling his expectations. Although he does not blade, he does know the ways of the military." The image of Boris was replaced by one of a red-headed man with pale skin and ice blue eyes, a cold frown set on his features. He was dressed mock aviator attire.

"Tala Valkov is the top student at the facility. Don't be fooled by his actions. He is only one year older than the two of you. He is a ruthless blader and will not tolerate disrespect. This is understandable, considering that he has been in that place since early childhood. Respect is difficult to earn there. It was also noted that he may be a subject in biological experiments, designed to enhance his skills, mentally and physically. The experiments somehow strengthen the physical cells and improve the rate at which he can learn. Whether he consented willingly or unwilling is unknown. His blade…" The image of the cold blader moved to the side, making room for technical specs and stats of the blade itself.

"…is a piece of work. It not only has an almost indestructible structure, it houses a spirit called Wolborg, an ice wolf. Be mindful of his ice attacks. They are very much real." The image disappeared to be replaced by a picture of a tall blond with blue eyes. His expression was serious, though it appeared that he retained some amount of humanity through his training. His eyes held a faint glimmer of light. His blade specs were displayed beside the image.

"Spencer is also one year older than you two. His surname is unknown. Spencer has also been there for as long as Tala has. He has been known to show acts of mercy, but he is also a very good observer. He could give you a run for your money Aleksandra. Don't do anything rash with him insight, as it may result in your capture. His blade is also well built, relying on strategy and pure skill than its own strength. It is well balanced. He also possesses a spirit, an ancient whale called Seaborg. As you may have guessed, all of his attacks are water based." Once again the picture was replaced by one of a seemingly emotionless man with pale hair and cold lavender eyes with his blade stats.

"Bryan Kuznetsov is very dangerous, even though he is the same age as Spencer and Tala. I want you to avoid him if it is at all possible. He is known for his acts of cruelty during beybattles, damaging the blade and harming the opponent, sometimes critically. Be very careful, as the attack will come without warning. He also has unusually good hearing and eyesight, so don't do anything rash if you even remotely suspect that he is nearby. His blade also houses a spirit, Falborg. It is a falcon of equal cruelty, as it attacks are what harm the opponent. You can't call him on a foul either, because, although you may be hurt, the wind attacks the falcon uses are virtually invisible to the naked eye." Again, the screen was filled with a different member, a short boy with a mop of dark purple hair and mocking burgundy eyes. He was smirking arrogantly at the camera, beside which his blade stats were displayed.

"Ian Papov is the final member of the world renowned team known as the Demolition Boys. Don't be fooled by his age or size. He's a rat, snooping around if he suspects anything. Do not mock him, even if you are tempted to. He will undoubtedly relay everything back to his team mates during practice or meals. Your reputation and respect will drop drastically if they also feel that it is not humorous, so be careful. Every under elite in that building fears and idolizes the Demolition Boys. The mission cannot be compromised because you couldn't hold your tongue. Now, continuing to his blade. It holds a snake spirit. Wyborg's attacks are capable of stunning your own, so be careful." Mikhail paused to turn off the projector and retract the white screen. The agents were stunned speechless.

"Now then, that's the people. Here are the details. They begin their yearly recruitment of new members in a week, so I suggest that you read through these folders and brush up on your skills. The recruitment is under the guise of a friendly competition and non-formal dinner. The agent already in the Abby is only a guard, so he can offer you the comfort of being there. Both of you have the next week off work. I'm sorry to have to ask you two to do such a dangerous mission." He stood, extending his hand.

"Good luck."

Aleks wrapped a clammy hand around her blade, feeling the comforting warmth of Faina, her lioness spirit. The Abby sounded like something from her nightmares.

That night, Aleksandra lay sprawled on her bed, propped up on her elbows. The thick folder of papers lay helter-skelter in front of her, divided into piles and spilling onto the floor. From what she could gather, the mission included disguising herself as a boy and becoming a recruit. The report noted that no girls were allowed on the premises. The residents had few personal belongings because uniforms were provided by the facility. Very few were allowed outside the Abby walls. It also noted the crude behaviour of the lower ranks, which worried her. What if they found out that she was a girl? Aleks shuddered at the thought.

The rest of the papers described the Abby's floor plan, the daily regimen, punishments of varying degrees, the food, the trainers, the experiments…the atrocities covered a good twenty or so pages. She was also given a copy of the Demolitions Boys stats and styles as quick reference when needed.

It was overwhelming. She had to disguise herself as a boy so well that no one could see through her lie when she took off her shirt (a requirement noted in the punishment section of the papers.) and sneak through the haunted building by night, searching for Lord-knows-what to serve as evidence. With an exhausted sigh, the female clutched the silver cross dangling from her throat and rolled over to glace at the clock.

_11:00 PM exactly..._

Gathering up the papers and putting them back neatly in the folder, she stashed them away in a locked drawer and retreated to the shower to think. The hot water jogged her thoughts into overdrive: thinking, planning, deciding on logical items to take with her, (_I wish I could take my music…_) and remembering accomplices that could help her that Mikhail would approve of…

"This calls for a visit to Raisa."


	3. Making a 180

_Sorry for the wait, but I'm at the end of my semester. End of semester equals exams + final projects. Therefore Viatrix equals T.T_

_Enough of my rambling. Hope you like it _

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**Mission 2**

_Making a 180_

Aleksandra hurried down the cobblestone walk, passing the shops and streets inspired by history. Lampposts and signs made of tasteful wrought iron lined the streets and the buildings were made of stacked limestone blocks. Windows displayed the shops wares pleasantly, soft light illuminating the displays. The street was also cobblestone to match the walks, and an occasional carriage could be seen among the cars. A light layer of snow blanketed the area. It was the perfect image of a peaceful town.

Aleks gripped her coat closer as a cold, biting wind picking up loose cloth and hair. Raisa's boutique was situated on the corner, where old Russia met new Russia. Hurrying up the stone steps, she entered _Indulge_.

The shop was warm and cheerful, an employee greeting her from a polished desk, made of a light coloured wood. The walls were painted a pastel green with an impossibly white trim. A long mirror lined one side, facing several hairdressers' chairs. A few sinks were lined at the back and the opposite wall housed plush couches and coffee tables, supporting several magazines. Aleks could see the stairs ascending to the second floor to her immediate right and the employees' door on the first landing. Approaching the girl at the counter, she spoke lightly, feeling at home.

"I've come to see Raisa, is she busy?"

"Do you have an appointment?"

"I called ahead. She knows I'm coming." The secretary paused.

"Yes, she mentioned that a friend was coming to see her. One moment please."

She thanked her and leaned on the desk side. _If she can't help me, no one can…_

"Ms. Bogdan will see you now. Please-"

"Aleksandra! Hey girl!" A wild blur hurtled down the stairs and tackled the brunette in a bear hug. Aleks laughed, returning the affection.

"Hey Raisa. Long time no see."

"No kidding! If I wasn't so interested in this so-called project of yours, I'd be hanging you from the ceiling while demanding an explanation for the cold shoulder recently."

"Aw, you know I don't mean too. I just get so caught up in my work…" Her best friend laughed.

"I can't stay mad at you. Everyone knows that."

Raisa was her older sister, seven years her senior to be exact. She had shoulder length black hair and was a full head taller than Aleks. She did however, have the same blue eyes and skin tone as her sister. Raisa was dressed in a lilac halter top with faint white flowers worked into the hem and a dark green knee length skirt that seemed to float behind her as she walked. Black ankle boots and a black sweater fought of the constant Russian chill. Silver bangles jingled on her wrists and a white belt sat comfortably on her hips. There was a reason why she was a beauty consultant. Raisa Bogdan had a natural knack for fashion design. She beckoned Aleks to the employees' only door, whilst motioning to the secretary that they were not to be disturbed.

Raisa's office was as welcoming as her personality. Her desk was made of the same wood as the secretary's, and her walls done in the same colours. The walls were also covered in various mementos, ranging from old school pictures to posters of her favourite bands. Raisa's computer and phone sat absently on the desk, awaiting the next task.

"So…" The sisters sat down in comfortable chairs. "What's this new assignment then?"

"I can't give you details, but (don't laugh, I know you will Raisa) I need a temporary sex change." The beautician's expression was priceless.

"Come again?"

"I need to look like a guy, including this stuff." She motioned to her chest.

"Okay." Her voice had risen and her tone was beyond disbelieving. "Stand up Aleksandra Bogdan." The younger female rose, watching her sister expectantly. Raisa stood as well and took stock of her appearance.

"My naïve friend. I'm not sure if it's possible to hide what you've got. Disguising a guy as a girl is one thing, but a girl as a guy? To the point of bare skin? Now that is a challenge." She smirked deviously. "Call in your cavalry."

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A few phone calls and hours later, Gavriil and Paval stood in the colourful office.

"Aleksandra, are you _joshing _me? You want us to make you a _guy_?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, I do. Now help me!" The pair glanced at each other uneasily, then looked at her and nodded. A wide grin split her face.

"Thank you!" Aleks wrapped them both in an excited hug.

"Now then, if you're ready Aleks, I've found the first part of your transformation." Raisa turned the computer screen around to face them.

"It's called NewSkin©, a recent creation for various industries. It's made of some kind of biological material that almost perfectly resembles, well, skin. I've put in an order for a couple meters of our skin tone, so that takes care of the top half of you. I can make it so that it flattens your chest and won't raise suspicion. Something wrong boys?"

Aleks turned in her seat to look at her friends, immediately bursting into insane giggles, despite her own light flush. They were blushing a deep crimson at the mention of her chest, eyes wide. It was cute and comical all at once.

"No, nothing's wrong!" sputtered Gavriil, regaining his voice. Paval was still red and refused to look at his partner. The sisters shrugged, exchanging amused looks.

"Alright, now that that's out of the way, we need to focus on what's visible. Hair first. Did you want to keep the length for later or…?" She eyed the long brown hair spilling over Aleksandra's shoulders.

"If it is possible, I want to keep it."

"Alright. Boys!" They snapped to attention, watching her warily.

"I need you to find some guy's clothes that will hide her obviously feminine figure. They need to hide her legs, middle and hips. Can you do that?" They dashed out the door without answering, running from the disturbing going-ons of the office.

"That should take them two hours at least. Now swing over to this side and help me pick out a hairstyle for you."

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The girls were tired, but satisfied. After looking at several pictures of male hairstyles and the BBA website, they decided that the best bet was to vigorously ruffle her hair so the bangs stood by themselves and wrap up the rest in a cloth.

"Some of the bangs will fall into your face, so that will hopefully hide some of those features. Honestly, this is more work than I thought." They were interrupted when Gavriil and Paval returned, their arms full of clothes.

"This is what we came up with. How goes the rest?"

"I think we're done. The skin will be here tomorrow, so you guys can come back in a few days. Preferably closer to the mission date. I'm bushed. Who's up for dinner?"

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Gavriil parked in front of the restaurant, affectionately nicknamed The Burger Palace.

"Alright, everybody out."

The building was almost full, families laughing and couples sharing a quiet moment. After ordering, Paval found a seat by a window, looking out at the busy street. Their conversation was light and carefree, the calm before the mission. Only Aleks's mind was churning, doubts and worries scaring her into submission.

_What if they don't buy the look...?_

Her sister noticed her silence.

"Aleks. You'll be fine. It'll work, I guarantee it." She grasped her hand briefly, returning to the conversation.

"But this Abbey…its-"

"Aleksandra. Drop it. Stressing will only make it more difficult." She swallowed, then nodded, smiling slightly.

"Thanks Raisa."

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Mikhail shuffled through the papers on his desk absently. A silent form entered the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. The Black Wing leader did not look up.

"Have you looked into it?"

"Yes. You were right. I'm sending in a couple of agents to scope out evidence for the trial." The figure smirked.

"Please contact me when you receive a date for this case. I will personally testify the activities that your agents discover." He turned to leave.

"Wait. I thank you for tipping us off, but I must ask. How do you know of such horrors at so young an age?" The man gripped the doorknob forcefully, his knuckles turning white.

"Because…" he began. "Whether I like it or not, I am connected to that accursed place in more ways than one."

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_A little shorter than usual, but I'm happy with it. _

_That last little bit in Mikhail's office was written especially for **anonymous elephant**. Hope you enjoyed _

_PS. If you know who was talking to Mikhail, keep it hushhush XD. Keep everyone else guessing._


	4. Competition For Slavery

_Finally. Sorry for the wait, but I'm a little (ha, right. REALLY) busy, and I don't really know how to describe what is happening in the story._

_Enjoy!_

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**Mission 3**

_Competition For Slavery_

Aleksandra, now known as Aleksander, scanned the Abby courtyard nervously. Although she was thoroughly convinced that she looked like a guy (as confirmed by Mikhail when he almost threw her out for trespassing), having arrived was nerve wracking. Both she and Paval were dressed like children of the streets, dirty and tired, wearing clothes that were too big for them. The rest of the boys looked the same, albeit slightly malnourished.

The hushed whispers died completely as an imposing middle aged man walked on to a raised platform and addressed the gathered crowd. The Demolition Boys were lined neatly behind him, like dolls. Paval's eyes narrowed.

"Borris…"

"Welcome everyone! We're so happy that you could make it to our annual competition and dinner. You are all welcome to stay here at St. Peter's Abby, where you will be treated like you so deserve to be." His voice hid the grotesque humour. The voice of a murderer. Aleks shivered.

"You will all be assigned to one of four blocks. The first round will be a survival match within that block. The second round will be the semi-finals. Third, of course, are the finals. There will be no graces. I will now ask you to form an orderly line and draw for blocks." Ian approached carrying a bright red wooden box. He set it down next to the registration bulletin.

There was a quick shuffling of feet and bodies as the line formed, winding around the back wall. Everyone was silent, and no one dared to break that silence.

'We need to have opposite blocks to end up in the finals together…' thought Aleks. She glanced back at the blonde. Discretely, Paval pointed to the right. Aleks glanced over, taking notice of the armed guards for the first time. No one else seemed to have noticed.

'This is bad.'

"Please draw a letter." The boy in front of Aleks had disappeared. The balls were smooth and cold, not at all welcoming. Retracting her hand, the letter 'B' was emblazoned in black. Paval drew 'D'.

"We will now commence the preliminary rounds. Please proceed to your respective stadiums." No one wasted a breath, turning to a deep, round dish emblazoned with their block letter. Aleks clicked her blade onto a regular launcher. No need to get the guards riled up because of Faina, and she did not want her taken away.

Her opponents all looked younger than her, anywhere between nine and thirteen. Children, and yet they would be exposed to this because no one would take care of them. The agent shook her head sadly.

_Hopefully our mission will be successful…_

"Bladers ready! 3! 2! 1!"

"Let it rip!" Twenty blades landed beside _Faith_, Aleksandra's spare blade. Twenty blades began attacking each other at once. _Faith_, a gold and white blur, spun patiently in the centre, waiting for the others to finish. Some bladers were overwhelmed, others held their own.

It was organized chaos.

Several small battles and twenty blades later, Aleks emerged victorious, her blade virtually unscathed.

_I still have it. Awesome._

Paval had won aswell. He was watching the 'C' Block battle. Scoping out competition no doubt. Her next opponent finished first, and watched her keenly. Sharp, brown eyes and a serious face. He could not have been any older than twelve, and yet he already looked like he had seen great tragedy. At that moment, Aleksandra realized just how happy her life was.

Paval felt slightly unnerved. Several pairs of eyes bored into him as he concentrated. His opponent form Block 'C' was not bad. But he had never received the additional training to hone his skills like Paval had. His spare blade, _Strength_, gave a final shove, and the boy's blade toppled over the edge of the dish. The ten-year-old fell to his knees, defeated. Paval knew he wasn't dramatising. Beyblading had become their life, these misfits.

"Winner! There will be a short break before the finals." Aleks had won, and her defeated opponent continued to watch her, as if sensing that something was off. She turned away and quickly went to Paval before he cultivated any suspicions.

"Hello challenger."

"Hello opponent. Good luck."

"Same."

The defeated minors wandered sullenly, angered by their loss. Beyblading was very important in Russia.

A little snow had fallen during the break, so the dish was dusted in white sparkles. It glittered in the dying sun, as if the gods were going to blade instead of two con artists. Aleks and Paval watched each other carefully, waiting for Boris to announce the finals. After several tense moments, the man final broke the silence.

"Congratulations for making it this far! The competitors will now commence the finals in St. Peter's 40th annual tournament. Good luck to both of you. Begin!"

"Bladers ready! 3! 2! 1…!"

"Let it rip!"

_Faith_ and _Strength_ hit the dish simultaneously and immediately began to dance circles around the rim, searching for openings in their near perfect defences. The whirling of the blades was punctuated by simultaneous calls.

"Sweep!" The blades made a sharp turn and hurtled towards each other at an angle. The resulting sparks and grinding drew small gasps from the crowd. Boris and the Elites remained unimpressed, watching uninterested. With bitbeasts such as theirs, who need worry about a couple of soon-to-be cronies?

The fight dragged on, with neither challenger tiring. Aleks grew bored, and could see the disinterest in her friend's posture as well. She caught his eye and nodded, drawing a small smirk from him.

_Time to turn up the heat._

"_Faith_…" The blade flashed.

"Fly!" The gold and white whir disappeared in another bright flash, leaving _Strength_ to circle the dish, confused. The dim sunset reflected off something small and metallic several feet above their heads, drawing eyes and surprise. _Faith_ landed on the bit chip of the bronze and orange blade, making wobble precariously underneath the relentless whirling of white and gold. _Faith _soon lost balance and was forced to hop off before it fell to defeat. Paval saw his opportunity.

"_Strength_! Destroy!" The bronze and orange blade flashed angrily, slamming the slightly off-balanced opponent, making it wobble precariously. Aleks sensed the challenge.

"_Faith_! Judgement!" The two blades met halfway in a resounding explosion of sparks and dust. When it cleared, everyone clamoured to see the damage. The stadium had cracked cleanly in two, and two blades lay beside each other, unmoving, in the rubble. Boris leaned forward in his chair, the Elites scowling darkly.

What happened next drew startled yelps and open mouthed stares from even the guards. Two regal spirits stood over the rubble, looking at each other smugly. One was a shining image of a lioness wearing a jewelled collar with foreleg and paw armour. The other was the mirror opposite, a lion, wearing a gold crown and chest plate. They bowed to each other, then lifted their heads in twin victory cries. Aleks and Paval shook hands under the royals' careful stare, smiling.

_Top that Boris._

Inside the Abby complex, the new recruits gathered in the mess hall to enjoy the 'banquet'. The boys who were bound there watched them sadly, willing them to turn back. No one heeded their silent pleads. Silence descended as Boris once again stood.

"Congratulations to our two champions Paval and Aleksander! It was a win worthy of the world challenge. I would now invite you to come and eat your fill. If you wish, you may sign the roster and remain here at St. Peter's, and receive free room and board. Doing so will also include beytraining, and we will make champions out of you all." Paval and Aleks were the first to sign.

That night, Aleks lay awake on her bunk, listening to the faint traffic outside the small barred window of their cell. It could not be called a room with such an arrangement. The window looked out on guards patrolling outside, and the door had a barred window as well. The beds were little more than rickety boards and worn out sheets. Some places were spattered in dried red spots, which they strongly suspected was blood. The resident quarters were split into blocks, and each had their own grimy washroom and public shower. Luckily, their block was occupied by them alone, so Aleks breathed a little easier. A temporary grace until she found an alternative. Or maybe Boris wanted to keep a close eye on them after Faina and Leo's appearance.

Paval was asleep, snoring gently.

'How can he sleep so easily?'

The picture on the far wall of Boris' office slide aside to reveal a small screen set into the wall. It crackled to life. A shadowed figure of a man with long grey hair sparked to life.

"Ah, Boris," drawled a voice laced with arrogance. "Report."

"The tournament was successful. Everyone who turned up, signed up. Their training begins tomorrow."

"Good. I will expect a development report in one week."

"As you wish." The picture slide back into place with a click of Boris' remote. He turned to his computer to search for information on the two beasts that had appeared that afternoon. Several minutes passed before his search bore fruit.

"So Paval, you do have a bit beast after all…" The screen displayed a much younger Paval at a local tournament some years ago, under the headline 'Dangerous Face In The Beyblading World'. He stood commanding a snarling lion that bore a crown on his brow. No results came up for Aleksander or the lioness. He pressed the intercom and called the Elites.

One by one, they entered the office with stony expressions. Once he was satisfied that they were all listening attentively, Boris spoke carelessly, as if it did not matter.

"I want you four to report any suspicious activity or bit beasts that you see directly to me. Immediately. There will be no excuses. You are dismissed."

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_I can't descibe battles to save my life (sweatdrop). And I just realized that the spacing isn't working properly. Sorry, but nothing I can do about that._


	5. Torture or Training?

_I'm back! (For a while anyways…) As you all know, school is a major pain in the ass, and causes multiple problems for people with stories to write. Anyways, my point is that I can't update that frequently. Sorry._

_By the way, you're all GREAT! Thank you for the encouraging reviews!_

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**Mission 4**

_Torture Or Training?_

The morning bell erupted so quickly, there was a small scale panic among the new recruits. Aleks jumped out of her skin and landed with a painful thump on the worn floor. She groaned, pulling herself back onto the bed…if you could call it that. It was little more than a military cot, just a frame and blanket. And it was not comfortable, the brunette remembered, feeling her muscles pang.

"You up yet Aleks?"

"No, I talk in my sleep." Paval just grinned.

"Better watch the sarcasm, or you'll be the first one they pick out."

"I know…" Aleks sighed and examined the uniform that they received the night before. It was army green, with cargo pockets all over the place. One pocket was for a gun.

"I guess it's military training after all then."

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The canteen was silent, despite the two hundred people inside. Even the cooks were silent, dolloping out a portion of a sickly grey…something, onto the waiting trays of the recruits.

_What the hell __is__ that stuff?_

The friends found their trays and joined the queue for the mystery sludge. For a moment, Aleks was tempted to wrinkle her nose and demand real food, but thought better of it. Instead, she lowered her gaze and followed Paval to a table. There was only one empty one, in the far corner of the room, so they sat down and attempted to eat their breakfast. They chewed thoughtfully, then shared a secret smile. It was pureed spam, bread and milk. Military rations. So they were forced to train, even during meals.

"Leave." a cold voice commanded. They straightened in an instant, looking up into the stony eyes of the Demolition Boys themselves. Without a word, Aleks and Paval gathered their trays and moved away. They knew better than to stir trouble this early on.

"And besides," Aleks thought, her eyes going distant. "I haven't had my coffee."

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"The objective of this exercise is retrieval. Give your beyblades to the inspectors." The boys looked slightly uneasy. At the thought of giving up their most prized possessions and the sight of the pool. It was dark and murky, glinting dully in the poor light. One by one, they reluctantly produced their blades and piled them by the poolside. The instructor nodded when he was certain that everyone had complied. Uncaringly, he toppled the entire pile into the water. The recruits gasped as the last ones were flung further away.

"Retrieve your beyblade. When you acquire it, return to the line. You have two minutes. Fail, and you will be punished." Blank stares looked stupidly into the forbidding depths of the Olympic sized pool.

"Well…" thought Aleks, uneasy in boy's swim trunks. "At least no one has noticed that something is amiss."

"Begin!"

The water's surface became rough, as sixty recruits dove in a desperate attempt to find their blades. Many of them didn't know how to swim, and were thrashing about, trying to teach themselves in the heat of peril. Paval and Aleks dove expertly into the murky depths, cutting though the water with ease. They found the blades near the edge, but none resembled _Faith_ or _Strength_.

Together they broke the surface, with a loud gasp.

"Must be one of the ones they threw then," panted Paval, striking out for the far end.

"I'll take one last look here. You go ahead." Aleks submerged again, amid the wild thrashing of the others. Only a few brave boys followed Paval's example.

The bottom of the pool was calm and tranquil, with no movement or sound. The brunette revelled in the feeling of bliss, then struck out for the prizes. She noted that none of them had been retrieved yet. And she knew better than to get them. Although her heart clenched at the thought of their fate, she had a mission. And she would finish it with honours. Shifting through the metal, _Strength_ rolled to face her. Without thinking, she picked it up and swam to the surface. Breaking free, she struck out again for the far end. Paval rose with a loud gasp as she approached.

"I found yours."

"Trade?" He held up _Faith_.

"You bet." They exchanged prizes as they swam to the poolside, clinking blades while they pulled themselves out of the filthy water. Together, they stood shivering as the clock ticked away. Soon after, the instructor called time. The recruits who just finished sighed in relief, while the others pulled themselves gloomily out of the water. The ones who couldn't swim were left to their own devices.

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"Only nine people out of sixty found their blades in time and only us two managed to score 100 on the obstacle course. I'm worried about those who didn't make it." Aleks and Paval leaned over their meagre lunch trays, whispering lowly.

"And the ones who got hurt or couldn't swim were left behind. They must think we're machines or something."

"More like they want us to be machines. What have you gathered?"

"Besides a headache and muscle cramps? Nothing that could be useful."

"Well that's not surprising," sighed Paval, poking at his rations. "We've only been here a day."

"Hey you two! No talking!" Once again, the agents snapped to attention and were silent.

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"You have 30 minutes to complete this circuit. You will be told what to do at each station." Aleks looked around. She was doing 100 chin ups first, but there was no bar in sight.

"Excuse me, but where is the bar?" The guard looked at her, expressionlessly pointing to the floor. She looked down and her eyes widened to the size of saucers. She visibly blanched.

The bar was in the floor alright, situated above a pit twenty feet deep. Inside the pit was a writhing mass of scales. One flared its hood. Cobras. Dozens of hooded cobras.

"Begin!" She stood frozen to the spot even as the others in her group jumped to grab the bar. One fell screaming into the living depths.

"Retrieve him." A guard lowered a rope and pulled the unlucky boy out. He was covered in snake bites.

"Take him to the infirmary." The guard silently guided the recruit out.

"Hey you!" Aleks flinched, her face deathly pale. "Get moving!" Shakily, she sprung for the bar and grasped it for life. Almost mechanically, she sped through her exercises. Still pale and shaking, she swung herself far back and propelled herself through the air to stumble back onto the cold floor. Running to the next station, the guard barked 100 sit ups, pointing to a double line of three steel spikes protruding from the floor. Without a word, she mimicked the others.

If her face could get any paler, it discoloured several more shades when another trainee fell into the pit.

The next station involved 100 push ups over a bed of burning coals. The heat radiating from the ground was making everyone around it sweat more than they should. Even the trainer was tugging at his collar from time to time.

The following station had a balance beam. Despite her horror, Aleks smiled at the familiar sight.

"Something I can do without quarrel…" she thought. Then she noticed the three giant pendulums swinging periodically over the beam. They ended in a deadly blade.

"Or not…"

"What are you waiting for? Get a move on!" commanded a voice. Something prodded her none-to-gently between her shoulder blades. Feeling more confident, she stalked to the plank and swung gracefully into a perfect stance. Shifting her body to gauge her balance, Aleks walked swiftly across, pausing momentarily for the last pendulum to pass. Her feet touched the other side within seconds, but the trainers' faces remained passive.

"Last one…" To her surprise, someone handed her a gun, leading her to a practice range. Silhouettes of people with clearly marked targets flashed randomly across the board.

"Shoot all of the targets. They are your enemy." Focusing down the barrel, Boris' face appeared on every target. Still silent, the sound of shots rocketed around the room, momentarily causing a lapse in movement.

She was no longer Aleksandra Bogdan. She was the sharp-shooter who had taken down several dangerous targets in her short career.

And she never missed.

In a matter of seconds, Aleksandra was Aleks once again. Everyone stared, shell-shocked, at the 25 precise holes bored through 25 targets, dead centre each time. She calmly handed the gun back, handle first, to the startled instructor. Only Paval remained oblivious, completing his 68 sit up.

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Dinner, as Paval still liked to call it, was as meagre as breakfast and lunch. The attention they were getting, however, was significantly different. Some trainees looked at them with awe, while others glared, as if it was their fault that they were pushed to the edge and over twice a day. Others were merely curious, appraising them with slight interest. It was unnerving.

"Everyone's looking at us…" whispered Aleks, uncomfortable with the attention. Mostly because some of it was hostile.

"Look on the bright side-"

"There's a bright side?"

"As I was saying, on the bright side, at least the Elites are keeping their distance. For now anyways." Aleks looked over at the eerily silent, mechanically moving team, a lump of pity forming in her stomach. And it wasn't because of the food this time ("Are they trying to kill us? Wait, don't answer that." Aleks pulled a face.).

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It was well after ten o'clock before the pair stumbled into their cell, dirty and exhausted. Yet despite this, Aleks dug through her bag and retrieved the darkest clothes she had, motioning for Paval to turn.

"You're going to look tonight? After the hell we barely survived today?"

"Might as well make it a thorough trip through hell."

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_A bit macabre and sadistic, but that's the way the ball bounces. I hope no one thinks I'm psychotic…I heard that this really happened in the first season (The type of training…). _


	6. Barren Discoveries

_I'm really, really, really sorry that I haven't been writing lately. Once again, I'd like to thank all my readers. You're great!_

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* * *

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**Mission**** 5**

_Barren Discoveries_

Aleks sighed miserably the next morning. Paval just shook his head, leaning closer for what felt like the thousandth time.

"It's not your fault, it was only the first attempt. What do you expect? You're not superhuman." She smiled weakly.

"Yeah, alright. But I can't help but feel inadequate. _A whole night_ of searching, and I found squat. Not even a lead."

"Hey, relax. You only searched one wing, right?" Aleks was silent.

"See there? We'll try again tonight."

* * *

"You are not fit to be a beyblader. Leave at once." The boy looked up, his face full of fear.

'That's the fifth person today…they know that the boys don't want to leave.'

"B-but I have nowhere to go! Beybladeing is my life!"

"You are weak. A beyblader has no room for weakness."

"That's it! You think that you're any better? I bet that I could beat you blindfolded!"

"Aleks…!" hissed Paval. "We can't afford mistakes!"

"I don't care," she huffed. "I can't stand this. This is the fifth person that they've dismissed!"

"You. What is your name?" They failed to notice that the guard had drawn up in front of them and was glaring down at Aleks. His eyes flashed, cold and harsh, underneath his hood. Aleks drew herself up.

"Aleksander."

"Aleksander what?"

"Bogdan."

"Well Aleksander…" She let out a hiss of pain when his hand whipped up to backhand her. "That is to teach you to hold your tongue!"

"Now, now. What's all this about?" drawled a voice. No one had noticed Boris walk in.

"Sir. He was talking back to his superiors."

"Is that so? I wonder then, why did he speak back?" She couldn't control the hot fury rising up her throat.

"He's dismissed five people because their launch was a fraction off! This is only the first day of beyblade training! How can we have perfect launches if he won't give us a chance to work at it?"

"Silence!" the guard struck her again.

"Now, now, let's not get too violent yet. Now, boy, do you wish to fight for your claim?"

"I've already told him that I could beat him in a match. While blindfolded." Aleks felt a shiver run down her spine at the cruel smirk that spread across Boris' face.

"Then you shall have it. I will referee the match between underling and superior. Step up to your sides."

'Something is off. He agreed too quickly…' Aleks thought, stepping up to the ring.

"Blind him," commanded Boris. Something cool and rough was pulled over her eyes and tied swiftly. She reached up to the offending blindfold. A dirty cloth.

'Figures…' Aleks felt around for the launch bit and firmly twisted _Faith_ in place.

"Three…Two…One!"

"Let it rip!" Aleks was silent, but rather ripped the cord out of the launch so quickly that the musical whirring of her blade was more a sonic boom. The two blades collided, dropping to the stadium.

Then it was silent.

"What? Why can't I hear anything…?" A sharp pain spread across her arm, making her wince. Aleks raised her fingers to the spot and felt something watery. Bringing her fingers to her nose, she sniffed it frowning. She put it to her mouth.

'So that's the way you want to play it, is it…?' Aleks thought viciously, as the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. 'Alright, let's see how you deal with humiliation…'

Aleks stilled, feeling the tremors of the blades' collisions and the breeze of their movement. A moving picture formed in her mind of _Faith_ being chased around the dish by a black blade. Another tremor shook the ground as her blade was knocked forwards.

'Enough is enough.'

"_Faith_! Reverse and tackle." The white blade responded immediately. Aleks revelled in the satisfaction of the guard's shock.

"Drive." With a satisfactory swoosh, a blade was pushed from the dish and one last tremor shook the room.

Aleks threw the dirty cloth to the side, a look of disgust on her face. _Faith_ spun idly in the dish.

* * *

At lunch, the agents thought that someone had plastered 'Look At Me!' signs on their backs. From the moment they walked in to the moment they left, every set of eyes had been watching them. Even the Elites had a glance to spare them.

"You'd think that the guards were invincible." Paval sighed heavily. His friend could be so dense sometimes.

"Aleks, you've made a mark out of yourself. And me, for that matter. Now every guard, superior and ambitious numbskull in this nuthouse are going to be watching us at all times. We'll be lucky to have a moment of solitude."

"Well, I'm sorry! But really, you'd think that I'd destroyed the coliseum, or the Tower of Pisa, or something stupid like that."

* * *

"Do they ever clean these vents? I can't believe that no one is sick…"

"Be quiet Aleks! They'll hear us." She rolled her eyes. Their every movement sent a loud bang down the shaft.

"Do you really think that the labs are in the south wing?"

"Yes, yes. Just trust me, alright? The worst that can happen is a guard shift that I was not aware of."

"Well, you better hope there's-SHIT!"

"Aleks, Are you alright?"

"Ow…" she groaned, sitting up. Looking up, Aleks saw that one of the vent covers had come loose, sending her toppling into…

Where was she exactly?

The room was filled with an eerie green glow. Incubation tubes lined the walls, all empty. A computer sat in the centre of the room, line after line of data scrolling by.

"What is it?"

"I dunno, but I intend to find out." Aleksandra settled into the chiar and began to hack the system.

"It looks like a time trap. If you're too slow it'll go off…wait a minute. I already went through this firewall…" Paval could have sworn that he saw Aleks leave her body in the chair when the alarms went off. He never saw her jump, but less than a second later, he saw her frantically motioning him to follow her back down the vents.

"Before they notice we're missing. Come on!" Several feet down the shaft, they jumped down into the corridor and began to sprint outside.

They had agreed to go out into the streets as a decoy before returning to the abby, to avoid suspicion.

"There's supposed to be a tunnel around here somewhere that will take us to the last room before we get outside!" called Paval.

"This had better not be it…" Aleks pointed into a round hole in the wall and up the slope.

"Yeah, that's it."

"Stop!" Brian and Spencer towered at the entrance of the corridor, pointing leathal-looking launchers at the agents. Aleks's eyes widened.

"Time to go." They began to shimmy up the impossibly steep hole. Not even a foot away from the bottom, Aleks's ankle was caught in an iron grip, and was pulled back, much like a rag doll. Brian's triumphant smirk loomed above her. Without thinking, she whipped her hand across his eyes and threw a smoke bomb at her feet. Kicking her ankle free, she frantically clawed her way up the shaft before the two giants regained their sight. Paval waited for her at the top.

"Come on!" The doors flew open with a deafening crash, and Tala and Ian stood on the threshold.

"Hold it right there!" Aleks was in such frantics that she disregarded their launchers and tackled her way past them, Paval close behind her, laughing at the bewildered Elites.

* * *

Aleks had no idea how they managed to get back to their cell without getting caught.

The grimy window that they found had lead back into the kitchens, and they had rushed back to safety.

"Okay, anything that well guarded must be important. There must be a safer way to get in there." Paval roused himself from his musings.

"Trainees aren't allowed down in the south wing. But I did notice Tala coming out of their one day, and he was acknowledged by the guard."

"So you think that the Elites are allowed to go where they please then?"

"Positive. But how does one become an Elite?"

Aleks had fallen asleep before Paval had finished his sentence.

* * *

_Well there's a little action for you! I hope it's as thrilling to read as thinking it up._


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